Have Patience (and embrace the horizon bleeding your future)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "What's your name?" she asked one morning. Looking up from where he was sorting through the last of the supplies to find her watching him. Their drinking water for the day bubbling sluggishly in the cast-iron saucepan she had balanced over a grate above the flames.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** This scenario is based vaguely off the end of 6x08 where we last see Denise and Alpha-wolf walking out of the door of the house and into the street. – Part three of my "WOLVES NOT FAR," series. Sequel to "Salt of the earth (type of dangerous)"  & "Sow thy seeds (and learn thy lessons)."

 **Warnings:** Spoilers for 6x08, kidnapping/hostage situation, Alpha-wolf is not a good person, Denise is a puff pastry of goodness. I think you guys know how this type of stuff works out, animal death, canon appropriate violence.

 **Have Patience (and embrace the horizon bleeding your future)**

 _ **Chapter One**_

" _You know the first settlers here, they put bounties on wolves heads…brought the natives into it, made them hunt them…didn't take them too long to kill them all._ _They're back now_ _. Some of the tribes around here, they thought the first people were wolves transformed into men…and now…well, you know….everything gets a return, right?"_

* * *

He taught her to boil her water before drinking it.

How to find it when the river bed was dry.

He taught her how to sharpen his hoard of knives and build a better snare.

How to recognize tracks in the brush.

He taught her how a biter's tread came out different from a person's or a deer's.

How to find out what direction she was heading without a map or the stars.

He taught her how to set up traps with empty tin-cans and noisemakers so that even when she was alone she could sleep through the night. He taught her how to string them up around her, close enough that she'd hear them coming but not close enough that the walkers would trip over them before she was awake.

He taught her how to hold her knife, subtle enough that the lesson was done without the knife even in her hand, but rather his own. Staging his own practice where he knew she was watching, getting stronger every day as his wound slowly healed and he found himself with more and more energy to burn. More time to run her through the paces and lead by example. More time to make her own it. Every breath. Every second. Forcing her to appreciate each and every one as he cut down the walkers that strayed close to camp like they were tissue paper. Showing her over and over that this was something learned. _Taught._ That it was a skill just like any other and someday it would be her holding that knife. And that someday, just like him, it would be her who would be the teacher.

He taught her how to live and she hated him every step of the way.

After a week it was familiar.

After two weeks it became a routine.

By that point he could more or less freely admit he had a problem.

* * *

"What's your name?" she asked one morning. Looking up from where he was sorting through the last of the supplies to find her watching him. Their drinking water for the day bubbling sluggishly in the cast-iron saucepan she had balanced over a grate above the flames.

"Alpha," he said simply, looking back to his task but not before catching the roll of her eyes. Sensing something different in her tone this morning as he eyed the length of rope laying between them. Vaguely considering tying her back up and stowing her in the den to avoid whatever she was up to as his patience threatened a shortness that mirrored his empty belly. Part of him curious about this new line of questioning and the other part equally hesitant.

It was a strange feeling. _Unfamiliar._

Like fear, but not.

 _Anticipation?_

"No, I mean your real one," she returned, impatient like it was obvious as she poked at the embers with the green end of a branch. Making his eyes water and nose twitch as the potent smoke wafted his way. Irritation flickered, threatening to rise before it was summarily dismissed. _She was still a pup. She didn't know that green wood made the worst-_

"Are the names we take for ourselves not real?" he replied, careful not to let anything show on his face as the animal underneath his skin chuffed and postured.

 _Conversation. Banter. He remembered this._

She nudged her glasses further up her nose. An unsubtle tell that told him she was distracted. Thinking his answer through without any real sort of judgement before answering. It was almost clinical - distant. But it was her eyes that always gave her away. She had kind ones. Too kind. Too good. It was a problem he hadn't worked out how to solve yet. But he would, in time.

 _It wasn't about breaking her._

 _Rather, it was changing her enough that she'd embrace the rest._

 _Just like the others._

"Who were you before this?" she tried again, staring at him earnestly. Sensing that one wrong answer would erase all the progress they'd made up until this point.

The corner of his lips twitched upwards - a smirk or maybe even a half-smile.

 _Clever girl._

 _Very clever._

 _Sharp and brutal in the strangest of ways._

"Misguided," he allowed, inspecting the last can of baked beans critically before placing it back into his pack. They would need to go hunting soon. In the suburbs. Far enough away that the supply parties from Alexandria wouldn't have stripped them dry. His nose twitched, irritated. They would have to find a new den before winter. New territory. Somewhere less populated, less open. With their lower numbers they had to be smarter, careful.

 _Their numbers would grow again._

 _Given time._

 _They just had to be patient._ _  
_  
"How?" she asked, frowning at him now. Forcing him to fight the inane urge to take his thumb and smooth the wrinkles that had taken up residence between her eyes. Knowing instinctively the gesture would be unwelcome. It would be a reminder of their situation, counterintuitive to continuing the conversation. Which he found himself enjoying, somehow. "How were you misguided?"

"I believed the lie," he elaborated after a careful moment, feeling the truth of the words come far more easily than they should have. Finding he almost wanted to let them go, wanted her to understand. _To know._

"We ignored what the world was trying to tell us. _We ignored the signs._ I believed that we – _people_ \- had a privileged place in the center of things. We took that for granted. We couldn't fathom the world could be any other way, without us at the top of the food chain. But here we are," he remarked lightly, leaning back against the downed trunk behind him as the collar of his jacket threatened to swallow his chin.

"The world has always been a blood bath. It was just a matter of us never taking a hit. You understand?" he affirmed, watching multiple expressions chase themselves across her face as she stared blandly back at him. Wearing a mask like armor as something about the way she was looking at him reminded him of being on the Dentist's chair. Firmly in the spotlight, but removed at the same time. "We've always been on the top, untouchable. When things ended? That was nature teaching us a lesson."

"Those things?" he added, letting his hand fling back to encompass the world at large. The mouldering trees and vacant spaces. All the empty cities and towns that existed between here and there. Leftover shells of a civilization that was still in the process of falling. "They aren't the infection, we are - _we were_."

"When you said you wanted to free us," she started slowly, glancing back at the fire for a long moment before finding him again. "Back in Alexandria? Before- what did you mean?"

He cocked his head.

 _Was it still so unclear to her?_

 _Even after all his lessons?_

 _How could she not know?_

 _What was holding her back?_

"You're hiding behind walls," he answered after a long pause, like it was obvious. "You don't need them. It isn't the way anymore. It was _never_ the way. It isn't what you need."

"We need to survive," she pointed out, nudging her glasses another few inches up her nose. Distracted again. _Thinking_. But already he could tell they weren't the thoughts he wanted from her. She was being stubborn again. _Willful._ "We need to be safe."

"You don't need walls to survive," he replied bluntly, laughing at her with his eyes. "You need to be able to fight. To protect yourself and those you deem worthy to survive with you. Why do you think it was so easy for us to upset the balance? Because what you people are doing isn't right. _It isn't natural._ It isn't the way the world works. So when we came to your town, that was what we were doing. We freed you from the metal of your own cage and reminded you what it is to be alive. That is my code."

"But it isn't ours," she shot back, a bit more spirited now - _affronted_. Tone arching like a house cat who'd found themselves forced to scrounge through the trash for scraps. "It doesn't have to be."

"It is, and you know it," he replied patiently. "You just don't want to accept it. But you will. You all will. Or you'll die. That's nature. It's simple. You win or you lose. The grey area between one or the other is just the time you have left to breathe."

She made a frustrated sound between her teeth that made him picture an insolent yearling. Something that might have just earned her a warning smack, before she forced the moment to evolve. Twisting it into something that made the animal under his skin stretch out and consider.

"You know, historically speaking, trying to force one viewpoint on top of another never usually works out well," she told him archly, eyes glinting angrily. But with a hint of playfulness that seemed completely at odds with her mood since he'd captured her.

"It depends on who is writing the history," he returned, not quite sure where the conversation was going now that she'd managed to gain control of it. But finding himself in no hurry to end it. Riding high on something that sang out like excitement. Pulse racing fast beneath the thinness of his skin as the promise of something more blurred through the lines they'd _oh so carefully_ placed each other in.

"The victors are always are the ones that record the history," she slapped back, blunt like she was calling him out. _Challenging him._ "Is that what you think you are? The victor? Then what? What's the point? Say you kill everyone, every person in the state, then what? What will you do? Tell me!"

The stalemate lasted a smattering of moments before-

"My name is Denise," she told him, not smug but firm. Like it was a truth she expected him to heel to without question or complaint. So fierce in her ignorance that she couldn't even fathom the possibility that she could be more. _That she was more._

"That's the name you were given. Not what you are," he replied, speaking the same words he'd said a dozen times before. To Beta and Aphid and every member of his pack he'd reared since.

"It is," she insisted fiercely, digging the stick she had been using to prod the kindling deep into the ash-strewn dirt. " _It is_ who I am."

He opened his mouth to reply, but found her baring her teeth at him.

Her snarl was silent but more than present all the same, making his hackles ruffle in kind.

His spine stiffened in increments.

Adrenaline surging as the urge to put her in her place rose quick to the forefront.

Only this time she matched him.

 _Posture for posture._

 _Glare for glare._

Refusing to give an inch as the fire crackled and spat between them.

He ended up being so surprised at her defiance that he'd simply stared. Fighting down a surge of emotion – confusion, ferocity, and something dangerously close to worship - like it was nausea before he ghosted off into the green to stretch his legs and let his body remember what it was like run.

* * *

It was only later, with hindsight, that pride had the opportunity to usher in.

Likening the moment she'd challenged him to the unexpected meeting of equals.

And strangely enough he found he could only grin up at the earthy ceiling of the den as he listened to her sleep on the other side of the small, hollowed out crevice.

He would make a predator of her yet.

* * *

 **Authors Note #2:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Big thank you to gunslingerdixon for the dialogue. – There will be two more chapters in this part of the series so stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** This scenario is based vaguely off the end of 6x08 where we last see Denise and Alpha-wolf walking out of the door of the house and into the street. – Part three of my "WOLVES NOT FAR," series. Sequel to "Salt of the earth (type of dangerous)"  & "Sow thy seeds (and learn thy lessons)."

 **Warnings:** Spoilers for 6x08, kidnapping/hostage situation, Alpha-wolf is not a good person, Denise is a puff pastry of goodness. I think you guys know how this type of stuff works out, animal death, canon appropriate violence.

 **Have Patience (and embrace the horizon bleeding your future)**

 _ **Chapter Two**_

"How did you become Alpha?" she asked the next morning. Wearing one of Aphid's old coats zippered up to the collar as she washed her clothes - the same ones she'd left Alexandria in - in a kettle over the fire. It only came down to mid-thigh, flirting with the pale lily of her skin, blue-veined and delicately beautiful – in an abstract way - every time she moved. Promising the chance of a better look whenever she leaned down, tugging at the edges self-consciously.

He didn't let himself linger.

Refusing to look after that long first glance.

He had work to do.

"I was initiated," he returned with a grunt, inspecting the individual parts of one of the guns he'd taken from her friends before they'd escaped. Teaching himself how to clean each one and put them back together as she watched with the kind of interest only extreme boredom could inspire.

Personally he was less than impressed.

He didn't like guns.

Something about them made his shoulders tense.

Forcing off-kilter colors to shudder and twist inside his head.

He didn't understand it. But he had accepted it. Facing his discomfort a dozen times over when he'd carried the old Alpha's gun with him when he and Beta went hunting. He enjoyed the symbolism more when the bullets ran out. Intrigued in spite of himself when people stilled and sweated with fear at the sight of it. Laughing silently to himself when he considered how misguided that fear truly was. They'd always been more afraid of where the gun was pointing than the person behind it. And of course, every time it had proven to be a rather damning mistake. Even with those that should have known better.

"How were you initiated?" she pressed, shifting from one foot to another. Creamy calves bare from the knee down as the shredded hem of the trench flared and teased around pale skin.

He tore his eyes away reluctantly when her naked toes curled into the mossy green. Thinking about ancient gods and the itch he still felt in his fingers for the scythe he'd sunk into the wall during his fight with Morgan. It had been his favorite. Someday he would reclaim it. When she was ready to reap and kill at his side, perhaps.

"How does any animal rise to power over another?" he answered, watching her. Seeing the moment for what it could be – another lesson to be taught – rather than what it felt like. Like sharp knives threatening to spear inside a locked cage. Like things that made him want to pace, _restless_. "I killed him."

She swallowed hard but didn't look away. Throat the same pretty-pale as the rest of her as the dip fluttered – delicately vulnerable. Demanding an audience, just like any work of art playing out on stage. Making him remember why people used the word beautiful for imperfect, temporary things.

* * *

That night he dreamt of sirens. Hearing their canned, synthetic wail as a pale, blood-slick hand fell lax against the small of his chest. Feeling more than hearing the ghost of its owner's last words hazing across his aching skin before static of dead space swallowed them whole.

* * *

It wasn't the first time.

* * *

He jolted awake with his knife buried to the hilt in the soft, earthy soil of the den's ceiling. Heart racing as he panted himself awake. Tasting the grit of dirt between his teeth and the jagged echo of broken bones as he flinched into himself. Body on point for a threat that wasn't there as he blinked away the blur of flashing lights and the sensation of soft, sweet smelling hair crushing between his fingers.

There was no one here.

It was just a dream.

He was safe.

 _They were safe._

His head fell back into the blankets with a plushy thud. Turning slightly to take in her sleeping form and the fettered moonlight glowing at the entrance of the den before he forced his breathing to slow. Bringing himself back under control as the night terror faded, just like it always did.

It only ever happened in his sleep.

The previous Alpha told him there'd been an accident.

That he'd survived.

That he alone had been strong.

 _Worthy._

He'd taken comfort in that. Letting it define him. But sometimes, like now, half-drowned in darkness and flashes of things that had come before. Piecemeal and translucent-thin - like pulverized bits of leaves dissolving back into the earth - he couldn't help but worry aimlessly at the scraps.

It was the only time he allowed himself the indulgence.

* * *

If he'd been less distracted he might have noticed the skip in her breathing and the gleam of her glasses reflecting the moonlight on the other side of the den. Watching him negotiate with his demons as a new expression – assessing and keen – took up residence. Lasting long after sleep rolled back to claim him.

Luckily for them both, he didn't.

* * *

 **Authors Note #2:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Big thank you to gunslingerdixon for the dialogue. – There will be one more chapter, to this part of the series so stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** This scenario is based vaguely off the end of 6x08 where we last see Denise and Alpha-wolf walking out of the door of the house and into the street. – Part three of my "WOLVES NOT FAR," series. Sequel to "Salt of the earth (type of dangerous)"  & "Sow thy seeds (and learn thy lessons)."

 **Warnings:** Spoilers for 6x08, kidnapping/hostage situation, Alpha-wolf is not a good person, Denise is a puff pastry of goodness. I think you guys know how this type of stuff works out, animal death, canon appropriate violence.

 **Have Patience (and embrace the horizon bleeding your future)**

 _ **Chapter Three**_

The next morning after breakfast, when she held her hands to be re-tied, he surprised her by shaking his head. Having decided overnight that it was time. Sink or swim, the way the rest of this would play out was up to her and her alone.

"You've earned the right to walk free," he remarked simply, gnawing on a bit of leftover rabbit. Making no move to pick up the familiar coil of rope as she stood – stock still and disbelieving – above him.

He ignored her, posture slouched and imperfect as he took his time chewing. Stripping every scrap of the rangy meat right from the bone before he eventually squinted up at her through the high summer glare.

She blinked when he made no move to correct himself.

Then blinked again.

"I'm sorry- you're what? Letting me free?" she questioned, shoving her glasses a couple inches higher on her nose. A muscle in her jaw twitching like a nervous tick.

"You _are_ free," he replied patiently, correcting her. "Now more than ever. I am just giving you back what was burrowed. Your _captive_ attention."

She frowned, nose crinkling at the emphasis. Realizing after a beat that the entire thing had come dangerously close to a pun. His confusion didn't show, but the rest of his train of thought was predictable. Lingering on the last time he'd made a joke or even laughed – really laughed.

He couldn't remember.

* * *

She eyed him suspiciously after that.

Like she was waiting for the punchline - the catch.

But by mid-day, she finally broke.

Just like he knew she would.

No one could really resist freedom dangled on a string.

 _Himself included._

It was just one of the many lessons the old Alpha had taught him.

"I'm going to go check the traps," she said decisively, dusting off her hands as she dumped a load of kindling beside the fire.

He nodded, looking up to track the movement of the sun in the sky. If she hurried she might even make it back to the walls before dusk. Probably not. She was still too soft. Not used to having to run and fight on a moment's notice. But she'd surprised him before.

 _Who knows, she might even make it._

"Can I have a knife?" she asked, pushing her glasses up as one of her hands gravitated behind her back like a child with a secret. "Just in case?"

"Alright," he agreed, smiling into the upturn of his collar as he tossed her one of Swift's favourite switch-blades. Even going so far as telling her to bring back more kindling as she edged excitedly towards the treeline. Ready to make her break for it.

This part was all about choice.

It had to be.

But it was also the most dangerous part.

Letting her leave.

 _Letting her try._

It made his chest tighten without his consent as she marched confidently out of sight.

It shouldn't have.

But it did.

* * *

Still, he had to admit he was curious to see what would happen next.

* * *

She was gone for just over two hours before she stumbled back through the trees. A splattered mess of muddy clothes and bloody skin as she pointed back the way she'd come with an exhausted half-scream. Falling, then quavering to her feet again, eyes panic-wide and glasses askew.

"I'm guessing the traps were empty?" he remarked mildly, feigning disinterest despite every inch of him on point and singing. Feeling an odd burst of pleasure at seeing her again. Heart humming a frantic rhythm in his chest when he took her in, reassuring himself that she was fine. That she'd passed the test. That she'd come back. That-

He almost laughed when the line of walkers chasing her stumbled through the treeline and into camp. The last one was even sporting the decoration of her knife sunk deep in the base of its spine – evidence of a near miss.

He witnessed his own amusement evolve in real time however when she trotted nervously towards him. Putting herself behind him in spite of everything. Seeking shelter, protection – comfort.

It was an act that revealed far more than it expressed.

 _Primarily, trust._

Almost as if-

He shook the thought away, body sliding seamlessly into a fighting stance as she hiccupped through a breath behind him.

Ultimately he chose to reward that loyalty with reassurance.

He danced death back into them and watched the walkers drop, animally satisfied.

High on the pleasure of the kill and the warmth of her, barely there an quivering, against the narrow-lithe of his back.

* * *

"You weren't hugged enough as a child were you?" she complained afterwards, almost sulking now that the danger had worn off. Still breathing hard as she stabbed at the edge of the fire mutinously with the toe of her sneakers as he kicked the last walker into the pile.

The proper response was to laugh.

But he said nothing.

Because the truth was, he didn't know.

 _He'd never questioned what had come before._

 _Not until she came._

Instead, he bared his teeth at her in a savagely pleased grin. Letting the glint of her knife arc red through the air as he pulled it free from the walker's neck and handed it back to her. Refusing to unpack the complexities when she looked at him with an expression somewhere between anger and a gentle sort of exasperation. Hands on her hips as she took a step forward, willingly demanding his attention as he issued the only challenge he was willing to follow through on when it came to her these days.

"Would you like to learn?"

* * *

 **Authors Note #2:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. – Stay tuned for another part to this series coming soon.


End file.
